


'A lot' is too little anyway

by nakymatonlapsi



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Poetry, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:31:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakymatonlapsi/pseuds/nakymatonlapsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It takes a lot of conviction to not believe in anything, Apollo.<br/>And how could I be ever good enough for anything but wine-soaked refusal?<br/>I don’t have ‘a lot’ in me; ‘a lot’ is so much more than I can do. </p><p>A lot would be way too little for you anyway."</p>
            </blockquote>





	'A lot' is too little anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out, I do poetry after all.
> 
> Neither Grantaire nor Enjolras nor their hopeless circumstances are mine.

**'A lot' is too little anyway**

My Stature of Red,  
My marble lover [Of liberty, I drink to forget about that],  
Your forceful, courageous words are made to be spoken by fearless leaders forever,  
And all I can do is mock them and shame them.  
In truth,  
I can’t bear them.

It takes a lot of conviction to not believe in anything, Apollo.  
And how could I be ever good enough for anything but wine-soaked refusal?  
I don’t have ‘a lot’ in me; ‘a lot’ is so much more than I can do.

A lot would be way too little for you anyway.

God of the Sun,  
I see you and I want to shatter the marble lines of your face,  
I want to drown in your angry blood,  
Get drunken on your noble words I don’t believe in,  
I see you and I want to make believe I do not care about your revolution.  
And in truth I wouldn’t if it weren’t for you.  
Your revolution is not mine, however much I wish it was.  
It hurts to disappoint you  
You’re used to it by now,  
I’ll never get used to it.

My golden muse,  
A cold word from your lips is better than any wine I ever tasted  
and no worse than dying by your side could ever be.  
You are my very own vice, my drug,  
And when you say I believe in nothing  
You are wrong, Apollo,  
For with all my wrenched, alcohol-drenched heart  
I do believe in you.

But how could I –the cynic, the drunkard, the skeptic -be ever enough,  
good enough, for a man like you?

Your dedication, your conviction and your resolution are complete  
– the old Gods must love you as much as I do, I am sure-

But I am just the wine I’m drinking and the bitter words I am saying  
How could my only belief ever be good enough for the stone-cold perfection you are?  
But, Apollo, when I lay down my life at your feet, it is the biggest honor to have believed in you.


End file.
